


I COOKED MY WAY TO A BF?! [NOT CLICKBAIT]

by sanhascroissant



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anxiety, Banter, Cooking Lessons, Developing Relationship, Discussion of Mental Health, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Getting Together, Healthy Relationships, Insecurity, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Minor Jang Yeeun/Lee Jeno, Mutual Pining, Relationship Discussions, because FUCK toxicity !!!!!, donghyuck is the worst cook alive, food is jaemin's love language, no angst only vibes, yangyang is kind of smitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27411679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanhascroissant/pseuds/sanhascroissant
Summary: “Get Donghyuck to take the classes,” Jaemin pleaded. “If he tries to poison me one more time with that disgrace to Korean cuisine he calls kimchi fried rice, I’m going to lose my mind.”Or; Five times Lee Donghyuck's awful cooking brought Na Jaemin and Liu Yangyang closer together, and one time that Liu Yangyang's lovely cooking got him a boyfriend.
Relationships: Liu Yang Yang/Na Jaemin
Comments: 36
Kudos: 269
Collections: '00 FIC FEST ROUND TWO





	1. kimchi fried rice

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> 1\. This is a work of fiction. These characters are not meant to be true reflections of their real-life counterparts. 
> 
> 2\. Thank you to my prompter, admin bom, and all the other participants of 00FF round two! It's an honor to write alongside you all!
> 
> 3\. If you enjoy the fic, please leave comments and kudos! Thank you so much for reading in advance.
> 
> Much love,  
> ROBIN
> 
> PROMPT #00409

“Hey, Jaemin!”

Jaemin looked up from his place seated on a bench in the center of the bustling quad to see Jeno waving at him from across the quad, hurrying towards him. Jaemin shut his book just as Jeno arrived, flopping down into the seat beside him. 

“Hey Jeno.” Jaemin took in his flushed appearance, his hair mussed from the slight autumn breeze and his glasses nearly slipping off his reddened nose. “How’s your day?”

“Good.” Jeno pushed his glasses up his nose, taking a moment to catch his breath. “How’s yours?”

“Same old, same old,” Jaemin said cheerfully. “Life’s good. So what’s up?”

“How do you feel about teaching?” Jeno asked. Jaemin blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question.

“Fine, I guess,” Jaemin said, bemused. “I’ve never had the opportunity. Why do you ask?”

“Student association is trying to start a new program with the goal of improving student quality of life,” Jeno explained, holding out a flyer for Jaemin to take. “We’re looking for a culinary arts student to run a cooking class for a semester, do you think you’d be interested?” Jaemin blinked, taking the flyer from Jeno reflexively. 

“Uh, possibly?” Jaemin examined the flyer. He didn’t exactly have the expertise to critique graphic design, but seriously, whoever had designed the flyer had really phoned it in. The paper was an offensive bright neon yellow, and the text was practically unreadable thanks to the pattern of shapes obscuring the words every few lines.

“Oh, yeah, sorry about those,” Jeno said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “The shapes were meant to be a lighter color so it had a nice background, but they came out black too, so…” He shrugged helplessly.

“This is why you’re asking me, isn’t it?” Jaemin was amused. “Nobody could read the signs well enough to volunteer.”

“Well, maybe…” Jeno said, shoulders slumping just enough to be noticeable. 

“I get it,” Jaemin lamented, shaking his head melodramatically. “I’m the back up plan.”

“Oh, come on, Jaemin,” Jeno said, pouting. “Please? You may be the backup plan, but you’re the best cook I know. Won’t you do it?”

Jaemin sighed loudly, just to be dramatic, before dropping the act and shooting Jeno a smile. “Sure, I’m not set up to have too challenging a semester,” Jaemin acquiesced. “Just one condition.”

“Sure!” Jeno said. “What is it?”

“Get Donghyuck to take the classes,” Jaemin pleaded. “If he tries to poison me one more time with that disgrace to Korean cuisine he calls kimchi fried rice, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Jeno winced. Lee Donghyuck, while not Jaemin or Jeno’s closest friend, was close enough to them that they’d had a few late night study sessions at Donghyuck’s apartment. Unfortunately for them, Donghyuck was a good enough host that he offered to cook them dinner so they wouldn’t have to spend money on takeout, seeing as they were all broke university students. This would have been an excessive gesture of hospitality and an instant way for Donghyuck to claim Jeno’s place as Jaemin’s best friend had the food not made Jaemin think that Donghyuck was genuinely making an attempt on his life. 

(While not an attempt on his life, Jaemin was pretty sure it was an attempt to get Jaemin to return the favor the next time they studied at his place. Frankly, that was completely unnecessary. Jaemin would have cooked for him regardless — Jaemin  _ liked _ cooking, so there was no need for Donghyuck to offend their taste buds with whatever the hell  _ that _ had been, because Jaemin refused point blank to call it kimchi fried rice.)

(Speaking of which, kimchi fried rice was dead easy. Jaemin was almost impressed by how badly Donghyuck had screwed it up.)

“I’ll do my best,” Jeno promised. “God knows he would benefit from them.” He stood up from the bench, waving goodbye to Jaemin as he rushed off, already on his way to his next class. “I’ll text you the details!”

Jaemin waved back, already opening his book again to find the place he’d left off.  _ Teaching a cooking class, _ he thought to himself, a mixture of bemusement, anxiety, and anticipation beginning to brew in the pit of his stomach. 

_ Well, it’ll certainly be interesting one way or the other.  _

______________________________

“Yangyang, have I ever told you how much I love you?” Donghyuck’s voice was pleading as he dropped onto the couch across from Yangyang. Yangyang rolled his eyes and fumbled for the remote to pause the drama that was playing on the television.

“What do you want?” Yangyang asked. Donghyuck pouted. 

“What, I can’t just tell my best bro how much I love him without an ulterior motive?” Yangyang stared at him. Donghyuck stared back, widening his eyes and sticking out his lower lip, but Yangyang wasn’t fooled. Sure enough, Donghyuck dropped the expression after just a few moments.  _ “Fine. _ My friends are forcing me to take a cooking class.”

Yangyang snorted. “I knew it. Why? And what does that have to do with me?”

“Well, one of them is teaching it,” Donghyuck explained. “And the other is organizing it.”

“So they want you to appreciate their efforts?” 

“No,” Donghyuck grumbled. “They just told me that I really need the lessons.” Yangyang burst out laughing. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m not that bad!”

“Sorry Hyuck, but they might be right. Whatever the hell it was that you tried to make for dinner last week tasted a bit like rat poison.”

“Not you too!” Donghyuck frowned and threw a couch pillow at Yangyang, who was still laughing uncontrollably. “I just wanted to be a good roommate and contribute to making meals for once!”

“Your efforts are appreciated,” Yangyang said, managing to quell his laughter for long enough to pat Donghyuck comfortingly on the arm. “But if you really want to be a good roommate, please never cook again.”

“Ungrateful!” Donghyuck grabbed their second cushion and lobbed it at Yangyang, who just burst out laughing again, shuffling away from Donghyuck to the other side of the couch. “Besides, you’re coming with me.”

“Why? I know how to cook already.” 

“Well, if I have to suffer through a whole hour long cooking class, then I’m dragging you with me for moral support,” Donghyuck said, shivering at the thought.

“You’re so dramatic,” Yangyang said. “Lucky for you, that actually sounds like it could be fun, so I’ll come. At least for the first one. No promises after that, though,” he said, holding up a hand in warning. “If it’s boring, I’m leaving you on your own as punishment for your crimes against the culinary arts.”

“Fine.” Donghyuck rolled his eyes once before dropping the act and grinning at Yangyang. “Maybe it’ll actually be enjoyable with you there and suffering too.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Yangyang said fondly, throwing one of the pillows back at Donghyuck. “I won’t be suffering because I, unlike someone else in this room, actually know how to cook without burning everything I make.”

“That’s it,” Donghyuck said, standing up and picking up the entire couch cushion he had just vacated. “I’m going to get you for that one, Liu Yangyang, I swear to  _ god —” _

______________________________

The student association had managed to get the school to lend them a culinary arts classroom for Jaemin to teach his basic cooking classes. Jeno told him that the last regular class there ended at four, and that he’d meet Jaemin there around four-thirty to set up for his five o’clock class. 

Jaemin thought about waiting around at home, but he found that as the day wore on, he couldn’t focus on much of anything. His head was too preoccupied with the fact that in just a few hours, he had to get up and teach a whole room full of people.

Maybe he hadn’t quite thought this through. 

_ No, _ he reassured himself.  _ It’ll be fine.  _ By all counts, it should be. He’d chosen kimchi fried rice for his first lesson — partially because it was the simplest dish in his repertoire outside instant ramyeon, but also partially to mock Donghyuck — and he could explain how to cook that dish while blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back.

But despite the fact that logically, Jaemin knew everything was completely fine, he still found himself leaving the house at three twenty-three just to pace outside the classroom door for thirty minutes until the class finished and he could go in and start to prepare. 

By the time Jeno arrived at four-thirty, Jaemin had been finished setting up for nearly fifteen minutes and had instead been pacing at the front of the classroom, going through the motions of explaining how to make kimchi fried rice in his head several hundred times.

Jeno just sighed and pulled him over to sit down. 

“I know this doesn’t really help, but you’ve got this, Jaemin. You’re super prepared.”

“I know that,” Jaemin insisted. “Logically. Intellectually.”

Jeno raised one eyebrow. Jaemin avoided eye contact, instead looking down at his feet, wringing his hands. 

“Okay,” he admitted, looking up to meet Jeno’s gaze, smiling awkwardly. “It’s possible that I don’t  _ feel _ prepared. There’s nothing I can really do about it.”

“You’re sure?” Jeno said, concerned. Jaemin smiled at him, and then reached out and patted his arm. 

“Yes. I’m sure.” He stood, and went back to the front of the classroom, checking that he had all the ingredients just one more time. “I’m already doing all I can. Anyway, could you come double-check these ingredients for me?”

Jeno still looked a bit worried, but to Jaemin’s relief, he dropped the subject and came over to check the ingredients. Sure enough, they were all there.

(Jaemin would have been rather surprised if they hadn’t been. He’d checked about ten times already.)

After that, they passed the time exchanging small talk to try and get Jaemin’s mind off the imminent public speaking. Jeno told him about a cat he’d seen in the park a few days ago, the assignment he’d gotten from one of his more demanding professors, and his second date with Yeeun, which had gone surprisingly well considering the fact that their first date was more of an apology for Jeno spilling coffee all over her on the way to class than an actual date. 

Before long, the class started filling up with people and Jeno left Jaemin alone at the front to help direct them to sit at tables of two. Jaemin noticed that Donghyuck was here, and he’d dragged along a friend, maybe his roommate. He also recognized a few people from his lectures and the kid he’d tutored last semester in biology, Jisung. 

At five o’clock sharp, Jaemin cleared his throat and miraculously, most of the chatter died away, a room full of eyes turning expectantly to him. For a split second, Jaemin felt himself freeze, but then he thawed as if nothing had happened and started the class.

“Hey everyone, I’m Na Jaemin.” The words were practiced, muscle memory kicking in. “I’m a third year culinary arts student. Welcome to the first of these little cooking classes, sponsored by the student association. Special thanks to Lee Jeno for being the student representative here tonight, say hello Jeno.”

Jeno waved, and Jaemin continued. “Okay! Now with all the formalities out of the way, let me introduce you to what we’ll be cooking today.” Jaemin gestured to the ingredients in front of him. “Some of you may have already guessed by the ingredients, but we’ll be making kimchi fried rice. I think it’s a great one to start off with because pretty much everyone likes it, and you can add your own extras to it and make it better once you know the base recipe. So are we all ready to get started?”

A murmur of assent rippled through the classroom, and Jaemin grinned, pulling his bowl of kimchi towards him. “Alright. You start by chopping up the kimchi. There’s no special technique, it’s just to get the kimchi into bite-sized pieces. Trade off with your partner —”

Jaemin continued to give instructions, and the room filled up with the sound of knives cutting through cabbage leaves, snippets of conversation passing between partners. Once the kimchi was cut, Jaemin directed everyone to turn on their stovetops and put the pan over the flame. 

“Pour some cooking oil, spread it around with a spatula or by tilting the pan, and then you’re gonna just put your kimchi right in.” Jaemin demonstrated as he spoke, pouring the oil into the pan and picking up his cutting board to slide the kimchi in. The room filled with the sound of sizzling.

“We’re just gonna stay like this, stirring the kimchi until it starts looking mostly cooked.” Jaemin raised his voice just slightly to be heard over the sound of sizzling. “Once it’s starting to look good, you can put in your rice and kimchi juice and mix it together with the kimchi. The kimchi juice is going to give it some moisture and tie everything together. You don’t really get kimchi juice with newer kimchi, as I’m sure you all know, so that’s what makes this a great dish for leftovers.”

For a while, he stayed silent, letting everyone focus on their own dishes, occasionally exchanging conversation with their table partners and some of the people at the tables closest to them.

Once his example dish started to look like it was ready for rice, he turned off the heat and wandered around the classroom to check on the others. Most of them were getting the hang of it and were putting their rice and kimchi juice into their pans, including, surprisingly, Donghyuck’s table — though that was more likely due to the efforts of the guy that came with him. One group put the rice in too early, and another accidentally put the kimchi juice in with the kimchi earlier, but both of those were easy fixes, and Jaemin was pleasantly surprised by how well things were going. 

“By the way, everyone, the kimchi juice isn’t the only reason this makes a great leftover dish,” Jaemin made his way back to the front of the classroom as he spoke. “Slightly drier rice fries better. The rice you guys have was made with slightly less water than I would normally have gone for just to make sure it worked well, but you don’t have to go through that effort. Using your leftovers is easier.”

He reached the front of the classroom, and began adding his own rice and kimchi juice as he continued. “Now, this is when you would add any extra ingredients or spices you have on hand, like meat, vegetables, mushrooms, whatever you’d like. But assuming you’re not adding any of that stuff, then you’re done with the main part. You can add some sesame oil and soy sauce for taste. Right about now, you can try it, and if it tastes off, you can change the taste with more sesame oil, soy sauce, or even kimchi juice. Whatever floats your boat.” Jaemin shrugged, smiling. “Cooking is much better than baking in the sense that you don’t have to be so strict. If you don’t like the taste then just add more of your ingredients until you do. Once you’re satisfied, turn off the heat and put what you’ve got into your bowls.”

Once everyone finished taste testing and their rice was out of the pan, Jaemin gestured to the last ingredients. “From here, it’s all garnish and everything is optional. You can put on sesame seeds, spring onion, seaweed, an egg, whatever you want. For the egg, just fry it in the pan and put it on there. For spring onion and seaweed you can just chop some up real fast. And once you do that, you’re all done! You’ve made kimchi fried rice!”

Most of the class seemed pleased as they finished up, and Jaemin proposed that they all stick around and eat their meals together. Groups of people pulled their stools up to other tables so that more than two people could sit together to eat and chat. 

Jaemin ended up at a table with Jeno, Jisung, Donghyuck, and Donghyuck's mysterious roommate, who he introduced as Yangyang, an exchange student from China. Yangyang’s smile was bright as he shook Jaemin’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Yangyang’s grin was infectious, and Jaemin felt the corner of his mouth tug upwards, his smile widening. “That lesson was really great. I’m not a bad cook, but it’s always lonely in the kitchen at our apartment since Donghyuck is so incompetent.” 

Jaemin tried and failed to stifle a laugh, and Yangyang  _ beamed. _ Donghyuck let out an affronted noise, shoving Yangyang with his shoulder. Yangyang nearly lost his balance and fell off the stool, but he caught himself in time, rolling his eyes at Donghyuck as he settled back in his seat. 

“Sorry Donghyuck, but you’re awful.” Jaemin tried to sound sympathetic, but he ended up just sounding a little choked, and he could feel his lip twitching. Donghyuck glowered at him from across the table, but Jaemin didn’t cave, just trying to school his expression as he took another bite of his food. He swallowed, and turned to Yangyang. “Anyway, it’s really lovely to meet you.”

Yangyang’s smile was blinding, but Jaemin didn’t want to tear his eyes away from such a nice sight. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

Yangyang made a lively dinner partner, with he and Donghyuck carrying most of the conversation. He was electric, magnetic, and Jaemin found himself unintentionally hanging on to every word, laughing at every joke, answering all the questions he was asked with ease.

Talking with Yangyang was just as easy as talking with Jeno and Donghyuck, and that surprised Jaemin in the best way possible. It was almost as if he'd known Yangyang for far longer than a single evening.

When everyone had finished eating their meals, they kindly helped to clean up the classroom before starting to head out. Jaemin thanked them all for coming and told them he hoped to see them again at the same time next week. 

(As he watched Yangyang’s retreating figure walking alongside Donghyuck as they headed back to their dorms, Jaemin silently hoped that Yangyang would be back for the next lesson. Something about him made Jaemin want to get to know him better.)

(Not that he’d admit that to anyone else.)

______________________________

“So, what did you think?” Donghyuck’s eyebrows were raised as they walked back towards their apartment. “Did you like the class?”

Yangyang considered his words carefully. “You know, I did. Jaemin’s a good teacher. I’ll come with you to the others.”

“Well, you’ve certainly changed your tune.” Donghyuck raised an eyebrow, tossing a look Yangyang’s direction. “Why the change of heart?”

“Like I said, Jaemin’s a good teacher.” Yangyang tried his best to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks. 

Donghyuck stared at Yangyang. Yangyang stared back, and the corner of Donghyuck’s mouth began to pull itself upward.

“You think Jaemin’s hot,” Donghyuck said sagely, nodding his head. Yangyang spluttered indignantly, but Donghyuck waved his protests away. “That’s okay. Everyone thinks Jaemin is hot.  _ I  _ think Jaemin is hot.”

“That’s not it at all!” Yangyang insisted, face truly burning now. “He really is just a good teacher! I’m here as a part of a _ cultural exchange  _ program. What better way to exchange cultures than by learning how to cook traditional Korean dishes?”

“Mhmm.” Donghyuck looked utterly unconvinced. “It has absolutely nothing to do with the way Jaemin looks sexy by just existing, then?”

“Jesus Christ, Donghyuck,” Yangyang murmured. “Say it a little  _ louder, _ why don’t you.”

“I knew it!” Donghyuck looked like the cat that had caught the canary. “You like Jaemin.”

“I can admit he’s aesthetically attractive, but that’s about where the attraction ends.” Yangyang shoved his fists in his coat pockets and hunched down. (Maybe if he looked uncomfortable enough he could make people think he and Donghyuck weren’t walking together, and Donghyuck was just a weirdo who wouldn’t stop talking to him.) 

(Wishful thinking. Pretty much everyone on campus knew he was friends with Donghyuck by now. Yangyang took a moment to curse his unrelenting extroversion.)

“Ends? My dear Yangyang, I assure you it is only beginning,” Donghyuck said gleefully. “Right now, you only know how sexy Na Jaemin’s body is. Wait until I tell you about his _ heart. _ Did you know that he volunteers with a local soup kitchen on a regular basis?”

“Donghyuck, if you don’t shut the fuck up right now —”

“You should go for it!” Donghyuck grinned and nudged Yangyang’s shoulder. “What have you got to lose?”

“Besides my dignity?” Yangyang said, unimpressed. 

“Please,” Donghyuck scoffed. “Since when have you had any dignity?”

“Wow, _ rude.”  _ Yangyang rolled his eyes. “Anyway, no, I can’t just ask out the cooking class teacher because I think he’s hot. I literally just met him. Wouldn’t that be weird? I barely know anything about him.”

“Is knowing that he’s sexy and he volunteers not enough for you?” Donghyuck shook his head. “Your standards are too high.”

Yangyang didn’t respond, just throwing an exasperated look Donghyuck’s way. They continued down the road together in silence for an incredibly peaceful thirty seconds before Donghyuck blurted out,

“Okay, but promise me you’ll shoot your shot  _ eventually.” _

“Why do I even stay friends with you, dear  _ god —” _


	2. homemade juice bar

Hanging out with Jaemin in a group when he was fully conscious and dressed to impress? Easy. Yangyang had carried the conversation easily, and Jaemin had laughed at his jokes from across the table, eyes sparkling. Yangyang had been flushed with victory.

Running into Jaemin at six o’clock in the morning at the coffee shop on campus with a truly impressive set of eye bags after a night of no sleep while on his way to class alone? Much less easy. 

For one, Yangyang was unprepared. He hadn’t showered in at least twenty-four hours — his own fault for deciding to stay the night at the library, really — and he had thought that would be fine. He wasn’t expecting to see anyone he knew so early in the morning. Both Donghyuck and Ten notoriously refused to wake up before midday, Hendery and Dejun weren’t exactly early risers either, and it’s not like Lucas would be able to say anything about the way Yangyang looked when he himself was practically nocturnal. Kun or Sicheng were the only ones he was really at risk for seeing, and if either of them saw him looking like a mess, they would probably just do something nice, like buy Yangyang coffee. 

But no. It was six o’clock in the morning and Yangyang was making direct eye contact from across the room with Na Jaemin, student chef extraordinaire and certified gorgeous human being. Yangyang was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to slam himself face first into the closest wall in an attempt to knock himself unconscious. 

It had been about three days since the first cooking lesson, so a part of Yangyang was hoping that Jaemin didn’t remember him just so they could avoid an awkward encounter. But unfortunately, that foolish hope was quashed by the spark of recognition in Jaemin’s eyes as he made his way across the coffee shop to Yangyang.

“Hey!” Jaemin waved, and smiled with too many teeth. Yangyang felt just the slightest bit overwhelmed. “Yangyang, right? Donghyuck’s roommate?”

“Yep,” Yangyang said weakly. “That’s me.”

Reason number two why this situation was a disaster: Jaemin  _ wasn’t. _ His hair was styled neatly, eyes bright and awake. His outfit was fashionable — hell, he was even wearing jewelry — and Yangyang would bet money that he probably smelled good too. Next to him and all his put-togetherness, Yangyang just looked more like a pile of hot garbage.

Jaemin smiled. “It’s good to see you. How have you been the past few days?”

Small talk. Yangyang was fucked. “Oh, you know. Good,” he said. He winced and a bit of an awkward pause fell across them both. 

“That’s good.” Jaemin seemed to take the awkwardness in stride, all things considered. “Are you thinking of coming back to the next lesson?”

“Oh, yeah, I think so,” Yangyang said, fiddling with his sleeves. “You’re really amazing.” His tone came out just a little bit too awed, and he straightened in horror, eyes widening. “I mean! Wait, you’re  _ a _ really amazing _ teacher!  _ You know, I thought you were really good. At  _ teaching,  _ that is.  _ Obviously.”  _

The words stumbled out of his mouth awkwardly. He could feel his ears and cheeks burning, but Jaemin just stood there smiling, a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Of course.”

Yangyang groaned. “Sorry. I haven’t slept in about thirty hours.” 

Jaemin just kept smiling, though he winced a bit in sympathy. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been there.” The barista called out Jaemin’s name, and he jumped just the slightest bit in surprise. “Oh! Well, I guess I’d better be going.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Yangyang answered, laughing awkwardly. God, his cheeks were  _ still _ burning. He must look like a sunburnt tomato at this rate. “See you around, Jaemin.”

“See you around, Yangyang,” Jaemin said, smile steady. “Good luck today. Try to get to sleep early tonight.”

“Will do,” Yangyang said faintly, and then Jaemin was moving away to grab his coffee off the counter before turning and heading out the door with a little wave to Yangyang. The door chimed as it shut, and for a long moment, Yangyang just stared after Jaemin as he disappeared around the corner of the shop and out of sight. 

He was snapped out of his stupor by the barista calling his name. Yangyang took the coffee with a grateful smile and chugged the entire cup, grimacing as he threw it out on his way out the door. 

He shook off the last lingering mortifying thoughts of Jaemin seeing him in such a state as he headed back on campus. As he went, he tried to convince himself that mixing up his words was just the result of extreme sleep deprivation rather than an inconveniently timed Freudian slip. 

Yangyang sighed, and resolved to put Jaemin out of his mind for now. He had to focus on staying awake during Linear Algebra. Based on the way his eyelids were already starting to droop, even after five shots of espresso, he wasn’t hopeful.

(Sure enough, he ended up falling asleep thirty minutes into the lecture. And he pointedly did  _ not _ dream about Jaemin’s smile, thank you very much.)

______________________________

“So, what are you thinking for next week?” 

Jaemin hummed noncommittally as he washed his hands, glancing over at Jeno who sat perched on the counter. He was the perfect picture of college student exhaustion, the tips of his fingers barely sticking out from the sleeves of an oversized Student Government hoodie, glasses slipping off the end of his nose. 

“I’m not sure yet,” Jaemin admitted, flicking the water from his hands and grabbing a cucumber from the sink. He placed it on the cutting board and fell into the familiar rhythm of chopping. 

“Hm. Well, there’s still four more days to decide. But we kind of need to buy ingredients at least a day in advance, so maybe more like three days to decide.” Jeno stifled a yawn, and Jaemin was reminded of a boy in a coffee shop who looked like he was on the verge of falling into a dead faint. 

“Wait,” Jaemin said. “I just might have an idea.”

Jeno grinned. 

______________________________

“So, what will we be making today?” 

Jaemin’s smile was wide as he greeted Yangyang at the door. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said with a wink. “I can tell you that it involves a lot of produce.”

Yangyang raised an eyebrow, turning to look at the veritable mountain of fruits and vegetables resting on the table at the front of the room. “I can see that.”

Jaemin beamed, and Yangyang heard Donghyuck stifle a snort from beside him. 

(“Real smooth, Yang.”)

(He  _ might _ have elbowed Donghyuck in the ribs so forcefully for that comment that he doubled over. Allegedly. But  _ if _ that happened, Jaemin was polite enough not to mention it.)

“Well, I’m looking forward to finding out, then.”

With a quick goodbye to Jaemin, Yangyang dragged Donghyuck inside and they found their table from last week quickly. It seemed that the other returning students had the same idea, so Yangyang recognized the people at the tables nearest to them.    


To their left, closer to Donghyuck, was Shotaro. Yangyang knew approximately nothing about him — he was in Yangyang’s year and they’d shared a few classes, but beyond that, nothing. In fact, he had a bit of a reputation as being mysterious. 

He glanced up as they approached and gave them a small smile before returning to the book in front of him. Yangyang vaguely recognized it as a fluid mechanics textbook, which, what? Yangyang could have sworn Shotaro was a dance major. He decided not to question it. 

Sitting beside Shotaro at the same table was Sungchan, who Yangyang knew from a few of Jaehyun’s parties and a few late night study sessions where they’d shared a library table. But again, beyond that, he knew approximately nothing. 

On their right, closest to Yangyang, were Renjun and Chenle, who Yangyang knew by osmosis because they were all Chinese exchange students and Sicheng never shut up about the two of them. Yangyang was already starting to bond with Renjun by exchanging a variety of exasperated looks during that first lesson, because it turned out that Chenle and Donghyuck had about the same amount of cooking skill — that is to say, none.

(Chenle might have been better if he didn’t keep straight up ignoring the task at hand in order to turn around and flirt with the boy sitting at the table right behind him. Poor Jisung looked like he was on the verge of spontaneous combustion.)

“Okay, everyone!” Jaemin clapped his hands, and conversation died away as people turned to face the front. “Today’s class is going to be a bit different from last time, mostly because we don’t have any set recipe. After seeing a few friends looking awfully tired this week, I was thinking that maybe what we could all use is a quick and easy breakfast recipe, and this is one of my favorites. Juice.”

Jaemin gestured to the massive pile of fruits and vegetables in front of him. “The recipe is easy. You slice up the fruit and vegetables of your choice, put them in the blender with some water and honey, and then you’ve got some super healthy juice to start the day off right. You can even eat it with a side of whatever fruit or vegetable you don’t end up using. Sounds easy, right?”

It  _ does _ sound easy. Even Donghyuck is looking confident, and that’s saying something. 

“Of course, it’s so easy that at first I didn’t even consider it for a class because I had no idea how to fill the time,” Jaemin explained. “But here’s the thing. I’ve come up with some of my favorite breakfast juices by experimenting with lots of combinations, and that kind of thing takes time that the average student — someone not taking culinary arts, anyway — might not have. So I thought that today, we could just have a sort of food lab, and let you guys try out a bunch of different combinations after watching me do one as an example.”

It was… brilliant. Yangyang felt his eyebrows raising. Jaemin was right. While such a simple non-recipe sounded easy in theory, he couldn’t see himself buying a bunch of fruit and vegetables just to try out different combinations until he found the ones he liked best. This way, he could find a few combinations he liked now, and only buy things he knew he liked in the future. 

Jaemin began his demonstration, and it was as simple as he said it would be. He chopped up an apple and a carrot into more manageable pieces, tossed them in a blender, and poured in some water. He squeezed in a generous amount of honey, and blended it together. He poured it into one of the many waiting cups on his workstation and took a generous sip. 

“It’s great,” he said, smiling. “A few notes before we start. If you don’t like the taste, you can add some more honey and stir it in afterwards. Also, try to think about what you want the juice to taste like, and remember there are no boundaries! For example, another one of my favorites uses just kiwi. You aren’t obligated to have multiple fruits and vegetables. Now go ahead and get creative, and feel free to share your creations with your partner and the tables around you. Someone else might be the one to come up with your favorite! Just make sure not to share cups — always take a sample from the blender.” With all his announcements out of the way, Jaemin set them loose, just wandering around the room and offering suggestions as he went. 

For a moment, Yangyang thought about what juice he wanted to try first. He eyed the table of produce, and immediately the banana caught his eye. Bananas were good, right? They were used in a lot of his mom’s smoothies, and could be a nice base. 

“What are you thinking?” Donghyuck prompted. 

“Probably bananas,” Yangyang said, shrugging. He considered his options, and decided for his first try to go for something on the sweeter side. “Maybe add mango to it?”

“Sounds good to me,” Donghyuck said. “I’ll go grab them while I get my ingredients!” 

The banana and mango juice turned out great, if a little thicker than Yangyang was anticipating. He asked Jaemin, and he suggested adding some more water. Sure enough, after that it thinned down and it was not just delicious, but also much easier to sip through a straw. 

After looking around, he tried Shotaro’s pear juice, Jisung’s surprisingly tasty kale and orange juice, and Renjun’s apple and pear as they tried his. Even Donghyuck’s juice — a rather unconventional strawberry and rhubarb — was pleasant. Before long, Jaemin was calling out for them to try for a second round.

Yangyang thought he should add a vegetable this time, after doing two fruits in the last round. 

“That’s a good idea,” Jaemin remarked, and Yangyang realized he’d been speaking out loud. “Vegetables have more fiber and less sugar, so they cut hunger easier and are better for you.” He blinked, looking a bit surprised at himself. “Ah… sorry. That’s probably more information than you needed.”

“No!” Yangyang rushed to reassure him. “It was really cool! So, what vegetable do you recommend?” 

Jaemin looked back at him, eyes just a tiny bit wider than normal, cheeks tinted pink. Then he fell back into his characteristic smile. “Carrots are good, and they go with lots of fruits. Kale is also a super healthy one, and if you pair it with the right fruit, it can be great too. Cucumbers can be good too, if you like them. They’re really refreshing.”

“Thanks!” Yangyang beamed. “I think I’ll try cucumber with lemon. I think that could be interesting.”

“It does sound nice,” Jaemin said. “Cucumbers go well with citrus. It’ll definitely be refreshing, but —”

Unfortunately, at this moment, Donghyuck was trying to use the blender — something Yangyang had done for the both of them with their first juices — and he completely forgot the most important part of using a blender. Putting the top on.

Thankfully, Renjun and Shotaro, the only other possible victims, had jumped out of the way at the last minute, but that left Jaemin and Yangyang dripping with water and several half blended chunks of kale and pineapple. For one long moment, complete silence fell over the classroom as Jaemin and Yangyang made eye contact. 

“Oh my  _ god,”  _ Donghyuck sounded absolutely mortified as he broke the silence. Yangyang closed his eyes, pressing his lips into a thin line. 

He opened them again and met Jaemin’s eyes, and a moment later he couldn’t help it — he burst out laughing. Jaemin followed suit, and before long, the laughter had spread through the whole classroom. 

By the time people were calming down, Jeno was tossing a set of keys over to Jaemin, who snatched them out of the air with ease. 

“The one for the bathroom is the small silver one,” Jeno said through a laugh. “Have fun.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes, collecting himself, and called out to tell everyone to keep trying different combinations, and that they’d be right back. 

Yangyang followed him out into the corridor. As the door clicked shut behind them, the sounds of laughter and chatting from the class became muffled and they set out down the hallway, Jaemin fiddling with the keys as they went. 

There’s something strange about places that feel like they’re meant to be busy when they aren’t — at night, the school corridors were almost eerily vacant. The orange light from the streetlights outside mingled with the harsh fluorescent lights inside the school, the ones that never seemed to be turned off. The silence was oppressive in the absence of the sounds Yangyang was so used to — scattered conversation and the footsteps of those on their way to class. 

By comparison, their footsteps should have been insignificant, but instead, they echoed loudly in the silence. At the end of the hallway, Jaemin unlocked the bathroom, the keys jingling loudly. After they got inside, the spell was broken when they started laughing at the sight of themselves in the mirror. 

“I’ll give it to Donghyuck, at least he’s consistently terrible,” Jaemin said, amusement clear on his features as he picked a chunk of pineapple out of his hair. Yangyang snorted, standing beside Jaemin in the mirror and observing the kale stuck to his temple. 

“True.” Yangyang turned on the tap, grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser and wetting it. He began trying to clean off the parts of his jacket where flecks of honey had fallen, and Jaemin followed suit. 

They carefully removed the remnants of Donghyuck’s ill-fated juice side by side, and before long Jaemin was turning to throw his paper towel away. “Did I get everything?”

Yangyang looked over to him, trailing his gaze up and down Jaemin’s body. “Um, yeah, I think so. Wait, turn around?” Jaemin did. “Oh, almost. There’s just a few pieces of pineapple in your hair — do you mind?”

“Go ahead."

Yangyang reached over and ran his hands through Jaemin’s hair, picking out the last remaining pieces of produce.

(Somewhere, distantly, he registered that Jaemin’s hair was incredibly soft, but he was pointedly  _ not _ thinking about it.) 

“There we go, I think we got it.” Yangyang stepped back, and Jaemin smiled thankfully at him. 

“Want me to check for you?”

(Yangyang was  _ not _ thinking about what Jaemin’s hands in his hair would feel like. He was also definitely  _ not _ forcing down a blush.)

“Um. Sure.”

(Yangyang immediately noticed how wonderful Jaemin’s hands felt combing through his hair. Or he would have, if he was thinking about it, which he  _ definitely was not.) _

“There we go.” Yangyang turned back around to face Jaemin, who looked satisfied. “I think that’s everything, if you’re ready to head back.”

“Of course,” Yangyang said, grinning. They headed towards the exit, but rather than let the silence fall over them again, Yangyang swallowed his nerves enough to ask, “So, what’s it like being a culinary arts student?”

Jaemin seemed to physically brighten, and by the time they got back to the classroom, Yangyang had learned that Jaemin loved cooking not just because of the process, but because he believed in the power of food to bring people together; that he had agreed to teach this class at the last minute, Jeno was his roommate, and three cats currently lived in his apartment despite the fact that having pets was against dorm policy and Jeno had allergies. 

(“They’re not my cats,” Jaemin said, fondly exasperated. “They’re Jeno’s. Never mind that whenever they get within ten feet of him he starts sneezing. The amount of Benadryl in our apartment is honestly excessive.”)

By the time they got back to the classroom and Jaemin had to leave Yangyang’s side to return to wandering around and helping people out, Yangyang could feel himself sort of… vibrating, on the inside — insides bubbling with that mix of excitement and shyness that you get from speaking with a crush. The way that Jaemin looked when talking about cooking and his friendship with Jeno was adorable, and he found himself desperately wanting to learn more. 

“Oh my _ god,”  _ Donghyuck said when Yangyang arrived back at their table. “You look lovesick.” Yangyang didn’t dignify that with a response and sank down onto his stool beside Donghyuck. 

“Oh, please tell me I’m reading this right,” Donghyuck said gleefully. “You don’t think Jaemin’s just attractive anymore. You  _ like _ him.”

“What is this, middle school?” Yangyang rolled his eyes. “Of course I like Jaemin, he’s nice.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his kale-pineapple juice. “Don’t be dense on purpose. You know exactly what I mean.”

Yangyang buried his head in his hands with a groan. “You don’t understand. I asked him about cooking, and he  _ lit up, _ Donghyuck, it was the cutest thing I’ve ever  _ seen —” _

Donghyuck just laughed. “Good luck, man.”


	3. stir-fried glass noodles

Normally, Jaemin was glad to have Jeno as a friend. But he regretted telling him about Yangyang, because ever since Jeno found out about that particular infatuation, he wouldn’t stop nagging Jaemin to do something about it.

“I don’t even know if it’s serious,” Jaemin protested. Jeno just rolled his eyes. “No, really! He’s just nice.” He paused, and then said quieter, “And pretty.”

“Well, that sounds good enough for me.” Jeno pushed his glasses up on his nose, reluctantly looking away from Jaemin to turn a page of his textbook. “Dating is just two people who think each other are nice and pretty seeing if they can become more than friends. I don’t see why you shouldn’t go for it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jaemin grumbled, forcing himself to look back down at his own textbook. 

“We get it, I’m a catch.” Yeeun had pulled her nose out of her engineering textbook for long enough to shoot Jaemin a look of consternation. “And you are too, Jaemin. Jeno’s right — you should try!”

Jaemin sighed. There was no convincing these people. “Even if I liked him enough to go for it — which I don’t, yet, I barely know the guy — he’s taking my class right now. Isn’t starting to date one of your students a bit unprofessional?”

“Normally I’d say yes, but it’s not even really a class,” Jeno reasoned. “You’re just helping out the student association by showing a bunch of your fellow college students how to not starve.”

“Seriously, Jaemin, don’t stress it,” Yeeun said, reaching across the table to pat his arm comfortingly. “If you don’t think you’re ready for such a big step, do something small instead! Maybe buy him coffee if you see him around, or ask him about his interests when you get the chance. You can’t do worse than Jeno.”

“Mean,” Jeno pouted. 

“Babe, you awkwardly flirted with me for several weeks and then only managed to ask me out after pouring burning hot coffee all over several of my textbooks,” Yeeun said dryly. Jeno wilted even further, but Yeeun just laughed and pecked him on the cheek. “Aw, don’t look so down. It worked out in the end, right?”

“Right.” Jeno perked up as he turned back to Jaemin, eyebrows raised. “Seriously, Jaemin, she’s right. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Don’t ask me that, I’ll spiral,” Jaemin said, only half-joking. 

Jeno shrugged. “Fair enough. There’s no rush!” He smiled encouragingly at Jaemin from across the table, hair rumpled from the several hours spent in the library so far. “If and when you’re ready, Yangyang will still be there, no doubt enthralled by your good looks and stellar personality.”

Jaemin scoffed and reached over to shove Jeno in the arm, but he and Yeeun just laughed. Jaemin rolled his eyes and went back to his textbook, silence falling over the three of them once again as they were sucked back into their studies.

(Jaemin might have been a bit more focused on Jeno and Yeeun’s encouraging words than on Economics, but if that was the case, then nobody had to know.)

______________________________

A day or so after their library study session, Jaemin got out of a class and ran across Yangyang sitting in one of the campus’s many courtyards, a book open in his lap. For one long moment, Jaemin considered pretending like he didn’t see him and continuing on his way back home, but at the last second he remembered Yeeun’s advice and stopped short, turning to Yangyang and waving. 

“Hey, Yangyang!”

“Jaemin?” Yangyang looked up from his book, smiling when his eyes met Jaemin’s. “Hey! What are you doing over here on this side of campus? I thought you were a culinary arts major?”

“Unfortunately, even culinary arts majors have to take Economics,” Jaemin said with a grimace. “What’s your major?”

“Oh! I take Environmental Science,” Yangyang said, smiling. He held up his textbook for Jaemin to read _ Natural History  _ off the front cover. “Save the planet, you know?”

“That sounds cool.” Jaemin took a seat beside Yangyang on the grass. “What kind of things do you do in that major?”

“Well, it’s certainly expanded my repertoire of nature facts,” Yangyang joked.

“Ooh, tell me one.”

“Hmm.” Yangyang tapped his chin thoughtfully for a moment and then grinned, looking back to Jaemin. “Did you know that there are twelve times more trees on Earth than there are stars in the Milky Way Galaxy?”

“You’re making that up,” Jaemin said incredulously. “There’s no way that’s true, there must be  _ billions _ of stars in the Milky Way.”

“I’m not,” Yangyang said cheerfully. “You can search it up on Naver if you want.” 

“Well, damn, it’s true,” Jaemin said after a long moment of silence, blinking down in surprise at his phone screen. He locked his phone and slid it back into his pocket. “Got any more?”

“Sure! Trust me, I’m a huge nerd for this kind of stuff, I have tons of fun facts up here,” Yangyang said, tapping his temple with a grin. “Here’s a good one! Lobsters are biologically immortal thanks to some gnarly stuff with their genes, so they  _ technically _ can’t die of old age. There’s some semantics, but it’s way cooler to just say that they’re basically immortal and leave it at that.”

“It is cool,” Jaemin admitted. “But I’m curious anyway. How can they only be technically immortal?” 

“Well, humans age because over time, our telomeres deteriorate,” Yangyang said, gesticulating excitedly as he got more into the conversation. Jaemin fought back the urge to smile. It was adorable. “Telomeres are kind of like the shields on the ends of our genes. So eventually they get worn down and our genes start to deteriorate more rapidly without protection. It’s how we age. But with lobsters, they replace their telomeres. So technically, they can’t age.”

“Oh, so that’s why they’re biologically immortal,” Jaemin said, nodding. “I see.”

Yangyang beamed. “Yep! But aging is more complicated than that. In order for our bodies to function, we have to have energy, you know? Without energy, our heart won’t beat, we don’t digest food as well, all of that stuff. It’s why food and sleep are so important from a biological perspective.” 

“Well, we know that I’ll always agree about the importance of food,” Jaemin said, grinning. Yangyang laughed. 

“You get it! Anyway, it’s the same for lobsters. They need energy to function. The larger they are and the more complicated the process, the more energy it takes. And lobsters never stop growing.”

“I think I can see where this might be going,” Jaemin said. “Eventually they get to a point where they’re so big that even basic stuff like moving requires so much energy that they just can’t, and they die?”

“Pretty much,” Yangyang said, shrugging. “Lobsters also molt every couple of years, and that requires hella energy. A lot of older lobsters die during the process if they don’t have the energy for it anymore. It’s not the conventional way of dying of old age, but technically, it counts. So the scientific community is split on whether or not lobsters can actually be considered immortal.”

“Either way, they’re still cool,” Jaemin said, sitting back on his hands. “Have you always been interested in Environmental Science?”

“Nah,” Yangyang said. “I was into music for the longest time. Still am. Back when I was little I was sure I was going to be a pop star. But it’s more of a hobby now, you know?”

“Do you play any instruments?” Jaemin asked, curious. “Or are you more of a singer?”

“I played the violin as a kid, and I think I’m decent. I sing, mostly. Even learned how to rap a little,” Yangyang admitted, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “My dad always wanted me to play guitar, but I never bothered because he was already so good and I figured that I would always know someone who could play.”

“Solid logic,” Jaemin said. “I swear, half the people I know play guitar. Jeno, Mark, Doyoung…”

“Tell me about it!” Yangyang laughed. “Dejun plays, and so does Sicheng. Do you play anything?”

“Piano,” Jaemin admitted. “My parents made me.”

“Same here.” 

“Yeah. Playing piano is even less unique than playing guitar.”

“Still impressive though,” Yangyang said, nudging Jaemin with his shoulder.

“I guess so,” Jaemin acquiesced, shooting a smile Yangyang’s way. “Anyway, I was wondering. You’re on exchange, right?”

“Yep. Thought I might go out and see the world while I have the chance,” Yangyang said cheerfully. “I was in Germany for two years, now I’m here. Why?”

“Oh, I didn’t know you spent some time in Germany. You’re a world traveler!” Jaemin grinned at Yangyang. “Well, I was wondering if there was any food you’ve had here that you really like, or one from back home you miss that you’d like to learn how to make. I’ve got approximately zero ideas for what to teach next week, and Jeno’s getting impatient.”

“You’re so  _ sweet,  _ Jaemin! You don’t have to teach something you know I’d like,” Yangyang said, batting Jaemin’s arm.

“I want to,” Jaemin insisted, and he could have sworn that he saw the slightest bit of pink in Yangyang’s cheeks. “Like I said, I could use the suggestions.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Yangyang looked surprised. He drew back into himself a little bit, cheeks still slightly pink. “Are you sure? I don’t want to overstep —”

“Yangyang,” Jaemin interrupted, fondly exasperated. “I swear, you wouldn’t be overstepping. I asked, didn’t I?”

“I — I suppose you did,” Yangyang said, and he was definitely blushing now. “Well, in that case, I guess I would say I’m a fan of stir-fried glass noodles? I know it’s kind of basic, but I really like them.”

Jaemin’s mind was already running a mile a minute. Stir-fried glass noodles were more complicated than what they’d done so far. They took more steps and required more ingredients. But then again, a lot of the steps were just repeats of each other with different vegetables and the meat, so it wasn’t really all that difficult —

“If they don’t work for the class, don’t worry about it!” Yangyang said hurriedly. 

“What?” Jaemin jolted out of his reverie. “No! No, they’re great. I was just thinking about what we’d need. They’re a good step up in difficulty from kimchi fried rice, but not so much so that it’s unmanageable. Everyone should be able to do it.”

“Everyone?” Yangyang raised one eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

“Well —” 

“Donghyuck,” Yangyang said seriously. Jaemin stared at him for a moment, and then he snorted.

“Well. Donghyuck might need a little bit of help.” Jaemin nudged Yangyang, and he smiled. “Good thing he has you as a partner.” 

Yangyang flushed pink again.

(Jaemin felt his heart swell just a little bit in his chest.  _ Maybe,  _ he thought tentatively,  _ just maybe, this could really go somewhere.) _

______________________________

A large part of Yangyang didn’t actually expect Jaemin to teach them how to make stir-fried glass noodles, so seeing them sitting on the ingredients counter felt strange. 

“Why do you look so shocked?” Donghyuck nudged his shoulder. “What did glass noodles ever do to you? Aren’t stir-fried glass noodles your favorite?”

At his words, Yangyang jerked himself out of his reverie. “Nothing! I just didn’t expect…” He trailed off, realizing he’d forgotten to tell Donghyuck about what had happened in the quad with Jaemin that day. “Never mind. I’ll tell you later, okay?”

Donghyuck raised an eyebrow, but he left it alone. 

(In all honesty, Yangyang might have purposefully avoided telling Donghyuck about his and Jaemin’s encounter. For one, he would have been utterly insufferable about it and would have nagged Yangyang to ask Jaemin out for a week straight. Plus, if Jaemin had changed his mind and decided  _ not _ to teach stir-fried glass noodles, Yangyang would have felt embarrassed to the point of no return.)

(Yeah, it had been better then that Donghyuck hadn’t known.)

“Okay!” Jaemin was smiling as he stood up at the front of the class, his own ingredients spread out on the table in front of him. “Today, as I’m sure you’ve all guessed, we’ll be making stir-fried glass noodles! So, first things first, let's get everyone’s pots filled with water and over the fire so they can come to a boil…”

As they waited for the water to boil, Donghyuck prodded Yangyang about Jaemin just to try to get under his skin. To Yangyang’s utter horror, Renjun could hear everything, his eyebrows raising further and further as Donghyuck got bolder and Yangyang’s face got redder.

“So, Jaemin, huh?” Renjun said the moment Donghyuck turned away to talk to Shotaro — who probably heard too, now that Yangyang was thinking about it.  _ Fuck. _

“Shut up,” Yangyang muttered, cheeks burning fiercely. 

(Renjun obliged, but he looked incredibly smug, and after that he shot Yangyang a knowing look every time Jaemin came anywhere near the vicinity of his table.)

“Alright, looks like most people have the water boiling, or they’re pretty close, so let’s get started!” Jaemin smiled, holding up a handful of noodles for everyone to see. “So, typically people say that you should soak the glass noodles in water for about two hours before boiling them, but I’m going to be honest with all of you — I don’t think that does much for them at all, so I always skip that.” Jaemin shrugs, putting his dry noodles into his own bubbling pot. “It feels like unnecessary prep, you know? Anyway, they’ll be cooking for about seven or eight minutes, and we should stir them pretty regularly so that they don’t stick to one another.”

“Cooking in pairs is great because this way we can get some stuff done while the noodles finish up,” Jaemin said, smiling. “So while one of you stirs, the other one can go pick up the other ingredients and start chopping up the vegetables.” 

Yangyang considered it, and then decided he would be the one to go get the other ingredients and chop up the vegetables. He was pretty sure that Donghyuck could handle stirring the noodles. A knife on the other hand… well, lets just say that Yangyang preferred his roommate with all ten of his fingers. 

Just as he turned to leave, a horrifying thought crossed his mind, and he stopped in his tracks. He turned on his heel and looked Donghyuck straight in the eye.

“Don’t stick your hand in the pot,” Yangyang told him sternly. 

Donghyuck stared at him, offended. “Who do you think I am?” 

Yangyang shot him a look. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Fine.” Donghyuck rolled his eyes. “I will keep my hand out of the boiling water, thanks ever so much for your concern.”

Yangyang nodded, reassured. “You’re very welcome, Donghyuck.”

By the time the timer went off, Yangyang had chopped up half a carrot, six mushrooms, and about three quarters of an onion. He finished up the onion and watched as Donghyuck drained the noodles and left them to strain over the sink. Jaemin told them not to rinse them — he said something about wanting them to be as dehydrated as possible so that the sauce later would be tastier. 

After that, Donghyuck took over the knife and cut up some more, different kinds of mushrooms. Much to Yangyang’s relief (and surprise), none of his fingers were lost in the process. Yangyang filled up a new pot of water to bring to a boil as Donghyuck minced a clove of garlic, and by the time Jaemin came over to check on their progress, the water was bubbling happily as Yangyang tipped a teaspoon of salt into the pot. 

“Believe it or not, Donghyuck actually cut up these mushrooms,” Yangyang stage-whispered to Jaemin. “I was a bit worried that he’d lose a hand, but thankfully, it doesn’t look like a trip to the emergency room is in order.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes and shoved Yangyang hard in the shoulder as Jaemin stifled a laugh behind his hand. 

“All jokes aside, though, you guys are doing super great! Since you’re a bit ahead and the water’s already boiling, I’ll just tell you the next step. You’ll be boiling the spinach.” He smiled as Yangyang reached for the spinach, grabbing a rather large handful and putting it in the water. “Oh, you’re going to want more than that.”

“What?” Yangyang looked at the massive handful he had, surprised. “But this will barely fit in the pot as is!”

“It’ll shrink, trust me,” Jaemin said. “I know it seems like a lot, but you’ll need… hm.” He eyed the handful. “About twice that amount? Three large handfuls.”

Yangyang’s skepticism must have still been pretty obvious, because Jaemin laughed. “It goes really fast. You’ll only want to have them in the water for about ten, fifteen seconds max before draining them.” He looked down at the pot, and back up at Yangyang, encouraging. “Go on, try it. I’m right here if anything goes drastically wrong.”

Carefully, Yangyang put in the first two handfuls, and just like Jaemin said, they immediately started to shrivel. “Whoa!”

“Told you.” Jaemin smiled as Yangyang rushed to put in the last handful. 

“We should never have doubted you,” Donghyuck admitted, pulling out the strainer and putting it in the sink as Yangyang pulled the pot of spinach off the stove. 

“That’s why I’m the teacher,” Jaemin said cheerfully. “Just run it through with cold water a few times, and then squeeze out the excess liquid and put the spinach on the side. I have to go help some of the other groups, but good job, guys!” 

With one final smile, Jaemin left to go help the other groups and explain the next few steps.

"Alright everyone, once the vegetables are all chopped and ready, we'll be moving on to the stir fry! First things first, we wanna heat up the pan on medium heat, but we'll want to turn it down to low before actually putting any veggies in there," Jaemin explained, carefully holding his hand out over his own pan to check. "Okay, looking good!"

“It’s not just the pan that’s looking good, am I right Yangyang?” Donghyuck muttered, wiggling his eyebrows. Yangyang let out an offended squeaking noise, and to their left, Shotaro stifled a laugh. 

(So he  _ did _ hear. Yangyang cursed Donghyuck’s insufferably loud voice.)

“Donghyuck, I say this with only love in my heart, but please shut the fuck up and die.” Shotaro nearly choked with the force of his restrained laughter, and even Renjun’s lips had thinned in a clear attempt not to smile.

Up at the front of the class, Jaemin was blissfully unaware as he issued the next set of instructions. “Use about a teaspoon of sesame oil and put it in the pan, and then we'll start with our hard vegetables, in this case, carrots and onions!” He tossed his vegetables into the pan, pushing them around as the sound of sizzling oil filled the room. "We'll season them with a pinch of salt, and stir fry until they're soft, which should be around four or five minutes on low heat. It'll feel like ages, but it's better to be patient at this step rather than turning up the heat and risking the vegetables burning." Jaemin sighed dramatically. "Trust me, I speak from experience."

A low rumble of laughter rippled through the room as people turned their attention to their carrots and onions. Donghyuck put a bit too much oil at first, but thankfully it didn't seem to make too much of a difference, and before they knew it, Yangyang was scraping the stir fried veggies onto a separate plate.

"Now, we'll wipe down the pans a little with some paper towels, and repeat exactly what we just did with our mushrooms this time," Jaemin called out over the sound of wooden spoons against the pans. "Then you'll do it one more time with the spinach! That last time should go faster than four or five minutes, though."

“I’m impressed,” Yangyang said, watching as Donghyuck pushed the spinach around in the pan. “There haven’t been any disasters yet.” 

“Don’t jinx it,” Renjun chimed in from behind them. “There’s still time for Donghyuck to burn his hand on the pan or something.” 

“Renjun!” Donghyuck gasped, scandalized. Yangyang burst out laughing. “You haven’t even seen me cook before this class!”

“Seeing you cook in this class has shown me why you need this class,” Renjun said seriously. Donghyuck groaned.

“But I’m doing well this week!” He gestured to the spinach, no doubt about to proclaim his cooking prowess, but in his dramatics, he overshot, and his hand hit the side of the pan. He yelped, dropping the spoon, and Yangyang sighed. 

“I warned you not to jinx it,” Renjun said, shaking his head. Donghyuck glared at him as he ran his hand under cold water. After checking to make sure that he was definitely alright, Yangyang snorted and looked for another spoon. 

“I’ll take it from here, Hyuck.”

A few minutes later, everyone was finished. Jaemin grinned. “Now the fun part! So we want to put in five tablespoons of soy sauce, one tablespoon of honey, and rehydrate the noodles. Then from there, we put in our vegetables, make sure to add in our minced garlic, put a tablespoon of sesame seeds, and mix it all in together.” Jaemin demonstrated as he talked, and held out the dish for them all to see. “And just like that, we’re done!”

Yangyang and Donghyuck settled around Renjun’s table to eat, and after Chenle abandoned them to sit with Jisung and Sungchan, Shotaro came to sit with them too. After a few minutes of small talk, Jeno and Jaemin came to join them.

“Hey,” Yangyang grinned. “Welcome to the 00 liners table.” 

“Oh!” Jeno looked around, surprised. “We’re all born in 2000? Even you, Shotaro?”

Shotaro smiled and nodded, his eyes curving into crescents. If Yangyang wasn’t seriously into Jaemin right now, and thus, extremely biased, he would have said that it was one of the most adorable smiles he’d ever seen.

“That’s cool, I didn’t know that,” Jeno said, smiling. “So what’s your major?”

They sank into comfortable conversation, and Yangyang found out that Shotaro was an exchange student from Japan, a dance major, and that he took fluid mechanics for fun — which, what? Who takes fluid mechanics for fun? 

Through the whole dinner, Jaemin ate quietly at Yangyang’s side, a calm, warm presence in the midst of all the chatter, his smile on full display. As he ate, it suddenly hit Yangyang all over again that this entire lesson had been for him, all because he’d told Jaemin that stir-fried glass noodles was one of his favorite foods in Korea. 

Yangyang had a lot of warm and fuzzy feelings about it, and in that moment as he watched Jaemin laugh at Renjun and Donghyuck across the table he decided that this — him and Jaemin — was something he wanted to try. 

______________________________

“I told Jaemin a few days ago that stir-fried glass noodles are my favorite,” Yangyang said as they wandered down the road back towards their apartment. He waited for the words to sink in, the realization growing on Donghyuck’s face as he put the pieces together.

“No you did not!” Donghyuck stopped in the middle of the street, mischievous smile growing. “Oh my god, Liu Yangyang! You mean to tell me he taught that recipe for  _ you? _ ”

Yangyang smiled, his heart fluttering happily in his chest. From beside him, Donghyuck sighed.

“We’ve lost him. I started thinking about what kind of soppy, lovesick thoughts you must be having right now and I think I want to throw up. Actually, I just realized that all the great food I just ate was basically Jaemin’s love letter to you since we all know his love language is food, and now I want to throw up even  _ more.” _

Yangyang raised an eyebrow, looking over at Donghyuck’s face, screwed up in pseudo-disgust. “Sure, Hyuck. Dramatic much?”

“I have a way with words.”

(Yangyang might have shoved him off the sidewalk.)


	4. black bean noodles

“Hey, so I know this might seem a little bit like it’s out of nowhere, but I was wondering if we could maybe go out for dinner sometime.”

“What?”

Jaemin looked surprised, and Yangyang could feel himself turning red, flushing with embarrassment. 

“You know. Dinner.”

“Like a date?” Jaemin sounded utterly bewildered, and Yangyang was praying that the ground would open up and swallow him whole. 

“Yeah. Like a date.” Jaemin still looked beyond confused, and Yangyang could already feel the regret setting in. It had seemed like the stars aligned for them when he ran into Jaemin at the coffee shop, but based on Jaemin’s response, the two of them together wasn’t something that was written in the stars at all.

“Not that there’s any pressure or anything!” Yangyang said hurriedly when Jaemin remained silent. “I just think you’re really handsome and sweet and I really like talking with you, so I just thought… well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, you know?”

Jaemin blinked. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but changed his mind, closing it again. He frowned. “You’re… asking _me_ on a date?”

“Yes,” Yangyang said, voice small. “But this doesn’t have to affect our friendship. I’m really sorry for making you uncomfortable, I’ll just… give you some space.” Yangyang stood up hastily from the table they had agreed to share just a few minutes ago, shrugging his coat over his shoulders. Jaemin jolted at the sudden movement, eyes widening, but Yangyang was already taking a few steps away, desperate to escape the awkward atmosphere. “I’m really, really sorry about this.”

“Wait, Yangyang, don’t be, I —” Jaemin was starting to look distressed, and he half rose from his seat, as if to stop Yangyang from going.

“It’s okay, Jaemin, you don’t have to explain anything,” Yangyang said, trying his best to comfort him. “I’m the one that made things uncomfortable. I’ll see you around, alright? Bye.”

Despite Jaemin’s aborted attempt to get him to stay, Yangyang darted out of the coffee shop with one last awkward wave.

“Stupid,” he muttered to himself as he hurried along the sidewalk, burrowing down into his coat collar as far as he was able in hopes of hiding his burning cheeks. “So, _so_ stupid. You made him uncomfortable, you _idiot.”_

As he walked, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled Donghyuck’s number.

_“Hello? Yangyang? What the fuck are you calling me for man, it’s 2020, text like the rest of us, I had to get out of class just to answer this —”_

“I asked Jaemin out,” Yangyang interrupted.

_“What?! Oh my god, that’s great! Please don’t be insufferable now that you have a boyfriend, some of us are still single, you know —”_

“He turned me down.”

There was shocked silence on the other line. Yangyang sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

 _“God, sorry about that, I was just processing. I’m so sorry dude, I really thought he liked you back! I mean, all the signs were there…”_ Donghyuck trailed off. _“Whatever. I’ll buy some ice cream after class and we can wallow for a bit and not think about boys. How’s that sound?”_

“Good.” Yangyang sniffled. “You know Donghyuck, I don’t tell you this enough, but you’re a really great friend.”

 _“Shut the fuck up.”_ Yangyang laughed weakly. Donghyuck’s voice softened. _“You’re a really great friend too, Yang. You’ll be okay.”_

“I know I will,” Yangyang said, wiping furiously at his cheeks. “You should still buy the ice cream though.”

Donghyuck cackled on the other side of the line. _“Don’t worry. Of course I will.”_

______________________________

“I honestly have no idea how this happened.” Donghyuck’s voice was sheepish as Jaemin looked from Donghyuck’s dish back up to Donghyuck, and then back at the dish again, because how did he manage to mess up black bean noodles this badly?

“Um. Well, at least it's the right color?” Jaemin offered with a wince.

“Yeah, it’s burned to a crisp,” Renjun interjected. Donghyuck rolled his eyes but didn’t contradict him — how could he, when the noodles were still smoking from the bottom of the pan? Jaemin carefully poked at them with a wooden spoon. They didn’t budge.

“Well… I’m sure you tried your best, and for a first attempt, this is okay!” Jamin tried his best to smile. “The pot is just a bit ruined, but everyone has ruined at least one pot in their time. It’s like a cooking rite of passage. Don’t worry about it, Donghyuck! You’ve really been doing well up until this week.”

Internally, Jaemin felt awful. Donghyuck’s partner wasn’t here this week — which was, tangentially, Jaemin’s fault — and he knew how hard cooking was for Donghyuck. He should have hung around his table more, offered more support, done _something —_

“Hey, don’t go dark on me,” Donghyuck said, snapping Jaemin out of his reverie. “I messed up the noodles. It’s on me, okay? I can almost feel you worrying about it from all the way over there. It’s not your responsibility.”

Jaemin smiled ruefully. “It is, a little bit.” 

Donghyuck frowned. “I got a bit overconfident and tried something new, and it didn’t work out. How is that your fault?”

“I just froze!” Jaemin said. “I should have been there for you, given you some answers. Instead I was too focused on myself and my other problems to be there for you, and that wasn’t fair.”

There was a pause, and Donghyuck gave him a long, searching look. “We’re not talking about the noodles anymore, are we?”

Jaemin sighed, and caught Jeno’s eye from across the room. He looked just a bit concerned. 

“No. I don’t think we are. Sorry about that, Donghyuck. It’s my problem, not yours.”

“He’s my best friend, Jaemin, I know what happened,” Donghyuck said gently. Jaemin stiffened. _Oh, fuck._

“And you know, I’d like to think we’re pretty good friends too,” Donghyuck continued, oblivious to Jaemin’s embarrassment. “I don’t really know as much about you as I’d like to, but based on what you’re saying, it sounds like there was a reason for why things went down the way they did. You’re a nice guy, Jaemin, so don’t beat yourself up over this. You were caught off guard, it happens to everyone. Now,” he grins. “Let’s try making these noodles again.”

“Okay,” Jaemin said, breathless. He stepped forward to join Donghyuck at his station, already reaching to fill up a pot with water. As he waited, he watched Donghyuck rearrange the ingredients, and suddenly, something Donghyuck had said struck him. “You really think we’re good friends?”

“Well, yeah,” Donghyuck smirked at him. “I don’t invite acquaintances over to study or hang out outside class. What, did you think I was just using you for food?” 

Jaemin wisely said nothing. Donghyuck gasped, offended. “Oh my god, you _did!”_ He shook his head. “That changes today, Na Jaemin. By the time I’m done with these cooking classes, I won’t need you for your food anymore. Now hurry up and explain to me how the fuck to make black bean noodles.”

“Well, for one, you should turn the heat down,” Jaemin suggested. Donghyuck blinked.

“What? But the stove isn’t on…” he trailed off at the sight of flames rising uncontrolled to the point that they were almost at eye level. His eyes widened and he rushed to turn the stove off. “What the fuck!”

“You accidentally leaned on the dial while lecturing me about the power of friendship,” Jaemin said, amused. “Maybe you should focus on the power of an open flame first.”

“Oh, shut up,” Donghyuck said, but then he grinned at Jaemin as if to reassure him that he was only joking. “We have some black bean noodles to make.”

Jaemin’s heart swelled in his chest as Donghyuck, _his friend,_ turned back to the ingredients with single-minded focus. 

“Heck yeah, we do. You’re going to nail it the second time around. So, to start, you wanna grab…”

(By the time Donghyuck had successfully made black bean noodles, everyone else was long gone. But as they cleaned up the classroom together in the dark, Donghyuck happily chatting with him as they did, Jaemin marveled at how understanding Donghyuck had been.)

(He’d been beyond understanding, actually, considering the fact that Jaemin had pretty much broken his best friend’s heart. He’d even called him and Jaemin friends. Jaemin tried to ignore the way his chest felt warm at the thought of it.)

(Him and Lee Donghyuck, actual friends. _Who would have thought?)_

______________________________

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Jaemin sighed, taking off his coat. “You didn’t have to wait up for me — I told you redoing the dish with Donghyuck would take a while.”

“I know I didn’t.” Jeno leaned his head over the back of the couch to look at Jaemin. “But it was pretty obvious that you were miserable tonight about Yangyang not being there. I didn’t know the crush had gotten _that_ bad.”

“It hadn’t,” Jaemin admitted, walking over to flop down on the couch beside Jeno with a sigh. “And then he asked me out.”

Jeno looked at him, just the slightest hint of understanding growing behind his eyes. “When did this happen?”

“Last week on Monday, at the coffee shop.” Jaemin looked away from Jeno and up towards the ceiling as he let his eyes flutter closed. “I was a bit surprised.”

“Understandable, if it was sudden, but why?” Jeno asked. “You’re a great guy, Jaem, anyone would be lucky to date you.”

Jaemin sighed, cracking one eye open and shooting Jeno a look. “You know why.”

“Yeah, I do,” Jeno said. Silence fell over them for a moment, and Jaemin just enjoyed the comforting presence of his best friend. Down the hall, he could hear the low hum of their apartment’s heater, and the clicking of one of the cat’s nails against the wooden floor. Just as he was about to let his eyes drift closed again, Jeno turned slightly to face him. 

“Jaemin, you like him. What are you going to do about it?” His voice was steady, curious. Jaemin knew that he was trying not to push him, but Jeno had known him since middle school — he could read Jaemin like a book, and they both knew that deep down, Jaemin didn’t want to let this opportunity pass.

But, of course, they also both knew why he was hesitating. Jaemin sighed, leaning forward and running his hands through his hair. 

“I don’t know, Jen. I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.”

“What do you mean?” Jeno raised an eyebrow, glasses flashing in the low light. “He told you directly that he likes you. Where’s the risk?”

“Well… I don’t know. People don’t usually like me, Jeno.”

Jeno visibly rolled his eyes. “Yeah, _sure._ Nobody has ever liked the gorgeous, kind, respectful guy who can cook and volunteers in his free time. People like you, Jaemin, you’ve just got blinders on. I get why,” he hurried to say before Jaemin could protest, “but my point still stands.”

“Okay, _fine,”_ Jaemin said, frowning. “People might have liked me before, but the only people that have ever asked me out have either explicitly done it only because of my looks, or to make fun of me back in high school, so excuse me if my first response was skepticism.”

(He could still remember the way that girl had laughed sweetly when he’d finally managed to stutter out his number. “Thanks, babe!” She’d smiled. “I’ll text you!”)

(He found out later that she’d written his number on the wall of a public restroom, with a vulgar note asking people to hit him up. He’d gotten calls from sleazy straight guys for the rest of the year, and she and her friends snickered whenever they passed him in the halls.)

(At least they’d gotten a laugh out of it, because he certainly hadn’t.)

“You don’t ever have to apologize to me for how you felt about it,” Jeno said gently, reaching out a hand to rest it on Jaemin’s forearm. “I’m just here to help you talk through it and hype you up, even when the voice inside your head refuses to get with the program.” They shared a smile. “Did you ever get those vibes from Yangyang?” Jeno asked seriously.

Jaemin thought back on Yangyang’s questions about him, his genuine interest in Jaemin’s love of food, the way he always smiled and waved at Jaemin when he saw him around on campus, their few friendly run-ins at the coffee shop, the way Yangyang never laughed at him when he took things just a little bit too literally. He thought about Yangyang’s smiles during their conversations, the nature facts he’d given Jaemin in exchange for his cooking tips, the nervous anticipation on his face when he’d sat across a table from Jaemin in that coffee shop and said, _“I just think you’re really handsome and sweet and I really like talking with you.”_

“No,” Jaemin finally said, turning to Jeno in surprise. “I never did.”

“Well then.” Jeno grinned. “If he’s not in class next week, we know where he lives.”

Jaemin smiled tentatively. “Yeah, I guess we do.”


	5. bulgogi

“Yangyang!” 

Yangyang looked up from his laptop to see Renjun waving at him from across the coffee shop. Smiling, Yangyang waved him over, shuffling some of his books closer to himself to make space for Renjun on the other side of the table. “Renjun! How have you been?”

“I’ve been just fine,” Renjun said, sitting across from Yangyang with a smile. He straightened, fixing Yangyang with a hard look. “But where the hell have you been?”

“Oh, right.” Yangyang honestly felt like he didn’t really even have a right to be caught off guard. Renjun was always straight to the point — he should have been expecting this. He winced. “Would you kill me if I said I was hoping that if I didn’t bring it up, you wouldn’t either?”

Renjun shot him a look so incredibly unimpressed that Yangyang wished that he could dissolve into nothingness. “Yeah, I usually wouldn’t, but Jaemin looked like a kicked puppy all last week. What happened?”

“Uh.” Yangyang looked around the store furtively, then lowered his voice and leaned towards Renjun, who leaned in as well in anticipation. “Well, I asked him out, and he rejected me, so I thought that going to class might have been pretty awkward, you know?”

“What?” Renjun’s voice was a lot louder than Yangyang had hoped for, and his voice echoed through the shop, garnering them some concerned stares. “Oh, sorry,” Renjun said, lowering his voice.  _ “What?” _

“I’m telling you, he rejected me —”

“No, no, I heard you, it’s just…” Renjun narrowed his eyes. “Are you absolutely sure that’s what happened? Because Jaemin seemed pretty cut up about you not being there last week.”

Yangyang bit his lip, thinking back. “Well, I guess he  _ technically _ didn’t say anything, but —”

“Then I can say with one hundred percent confidence that he’s totally into you,” Renjun said fervently. “I’m telling you, man, he looked like his husband had just gone away to war and he didn’t know when he’d be coming back.”

“Trust me, it’s not like that!” Yangyang protested, waving his hands around in denial. “He was just trying to be nice.”

“Are you dense on purpose, or are you  _ really _ this oblivious —”

“No, Renjun, seriously, you had to have been there —”

“Um, I’m sorry to interrupt, but Renjun’s right.” 

Yangyang blinked, and shut his mouth.  _ “Shotaro?” _

The boy nodded shyly from the table beside theirs. Up until then, his face had been hidden behind a massive textbook — Yangyang hadn’t even known he’d been sitting beside him. “Hi. I couldn’t help but overhear. Sorry for the intrusion.”

“I — What? No, it’s fine, we were being loud.” Yangyang tried to shake some of his surprise. “Uh, sorry, what did you say?”

“Renjun’s right,” Shotaro said softly, and Renjun made a smug noise in the back of his throat. “I’ve never seen Jaemin look so out of it. I mean, he still was a great teacher, but his heart wasn’t really in it.”

“What?” Yangyang’s eyes widened as he looked between them. “But…”

“Jaemin’s heart is always in it when there’s food involved,” Renjun said, nodding sagely. He reached across the table to hit Yangyang in the shoulder with a notebook. “So you’d better come back next week. You’re making the poor boy sad!”

“He was the one who rejected me!” Yangyang reminded him.

“You said he didn’t say anything,” Shotaro pointed out. “How is that rejection?”

“I —” Yangyang stopped short. He blinked. “You got me there.”

“Exactly,” Renjun said, smug. Suddenly, his expression turned serious. “Also, Donghyuck really fucking needs a partner. You should have seen the disgrace of a dish he made last week, it was  _ offensively _ awful.”

“Well,” Yangyang felt a spark of hope rise in his chest, unbidden. “If Donghyuck needs the help, I guess I have no choice.” 

Renjun shot him a knowing smirk, and even Shotaro smiled just the slightest bit  _ too _ sweetly to be genuine as he ducked back behind his textbook.

(As they all turned back to their work and the conversation died out, Yangyang realized that Shotaro was right. Jaemin hadn’t said anything to accept or reject Yangyang’s offer. Yangyang wondered if that was a good or a bad sign.)

(He guessed he’d find out at next week’s class.)

______________________________

When Yangyang walked through the door of the classroom side-by-side with Donghyuck, everything else fell away, and Jaemin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Hello? Earth to Jaemin?” Renjun’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Jaemin rushed to apologize, heat rushing into his cheeks. “I completely missed that, could you repeat it?”

“You two deserve each other,” Renjun said unsympathetically, rather than answering Jaemin’s question. He patted Jaemin on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Does  _ everyone _ know about my love life?” Jaemin threw his hands up in resignation. 

“Hard not to, considering the fact that last week you looked like someone had died. Not to mention the way you kept glancing wistfully over at Yangyang’s table like you were hoping he’d somehow materialize.”

“Oh.” Jaemin paused, mortified. “I didn’t know I’d done that,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “That was unprofessional of me, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Renjun said, shrugging. “Everyone has off days. Honestly, it was kind of cute.”

“How is me not doing my job  _ cute?”  _ Jaemin shook his head at Renjun. “You’re so weird.”

“I’m supporting your romantic endeavors like any good friend would,” Renjun said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re cute, Na. Accept the reality.” He smirked, his tone taking on a teasing quality. “You know that Yangyang agrees with me.”

“Oh my god.” Jaemin buried his head in his hands as his cheeks burned. He surfaced long enough to wave Renjun off. “Go away, I have a class to teach.”

Renjun left with a laugh, and Jaemin fought to keep his blush in check as he turned to face the class. “Hello, everyone! Today we’ll be making a Korean classic. Bulgogi!” He studiously avoided looking Yangyang’s direction as he spoke. His feelings could come later — right now, he had a class to teach.

But Yangyang never left his mind, not as he demonstrated how to slice the beef thinly, how to mince garlic and leek, or how to chop onions safely. While he was peeling half an asian pear, he heard Yangyang laugh at something Donghyuck said, and he got dangerously close to cutting his finger open in his sudden distraction.

“Okay everyone! Now we’ll put two tablespoons of soy sauce into a separate bowl from the meat, add a teaspoon of brown sugar, a teaspoon each of the garlic and leek, and grate your asian pear in.” He reached for the grater, and as they grated, he explained, “Asian pears have a specific enzyme that tenderizes the meat faster! That way, we don’t have to marinate the beef for as long ahead of time, and bulgogi goes from a dinner that requires a lot of preparation to something that you can prepare easily. If you can’t use asian pears for whatever reason, kiwis also have the enzyme, so you can substitute with kiwis in a pinch!” 

Jaemin finished up grating, and reached for his condiments. “Alright. So from here, we’ll add some black pepper and some sesame seeds, mix it all together and…” Jaemin tapped his spoon on the back of his hand and tried the sauce. “It tastes great! I recommend trying the sauce just to see how you’re getting along here, because if something’s gone wrong with the sauce, it's a lot easier to fix before you’ve gone and mixed it in with the meat, you know? Alright, I’ll come around and help some people out now!”

“How are you holding up?” Jeno asked as he approached his and Mark’s table. 

“I’m good,” Jaemin said cautiously, glancing at Mark.

“Ah, if this is about whatever’s going on with you and Yangyang, I hope it all works out,” Mark said sincerely. He looked down at his bulgogi sauce. “I hope it’s going better than our sauce, anyway.”

Jaemin sighed, resigning himself to the fact that apparently, he was as easy to read as a children’s picture book. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Mark mused. “I thought we followed the directions pretty well.” Jeno nodded in fervent agreement. 

“Hm. Okay. Let me try it.” Jaemin tasted it, and really, it wasn’t all that bad. “That’s not too far off. You probably just need either a bit more sugar, or a bit more pear, whichever floats your boat. Some of the pears are less sweet than others, so I usually compensate with sugar. Then you guys should be good to go!” Jaemin shot them a grin. “I hope that works.”

“Thanks, Jaem,” Jeno said, reaching for the sugar. He grinned. “Good luck.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Jaemin rolled his eyes fondly and moved on to Jisung and Yeri’s table. 

Before long, Jaemin found himself at Donghyuck and Yangyang’s table, and the awkwardness in the air was only the slightest bit stifling. “Hey guys!” He said, hoping his smile didn’t seem forced or anything. God, it probably  _ did _ since he was thinking so much about it, _ fuck — _

“Hey, Jaemin,” Donghyuck said, sounding casually amused. “How’s it going?”

“It’s fine!” Jaemin forced his smile to grow wider, and then he faltered. “Wait, no, I’m supposed to be asking  _ you _ that. How’s the bulgogi sauce coming along?”

“Surprisingly, pretty good,” Donghyuck said. Jaemin tried not to focus on the sight of Yangyang out of the corner of his eye, uncharacteristically quiet, eyes averted and cheeks tinged pink. “Wanna try it?”

Jaemin hesitated, and looked over at Yangyang. “Is he telling the truth? I don’t want to be poisoned,” he said seriously. Some kind of tension in the air broke with his words as Yangyang snorted, and Donghyuck gasped, visibly offended. 

“No, you’re all good,” Yangyang said cheerfully. He smiled at Jaemin, the laughter faded into a soft smile. “I tried it and it actually tastes like bulgogi sauce, so I think we can mark this one down as a win for Donghyuck.”

“That’s what I thought,” Donghyuck said with a sniff. “I can be a good cook sometimes.”

“Don’t make me remind you about last week,” Jaemin said, amused. 

“A fluke,” Donghyuck said haughtily. Yangyang snorted again, louder. 

“Sure, Hyuck.” 

“It was!”

“Well, I have to get going,” Jaemin said regretfully. “Good work you guys!” 

The rest of the lesson passed by in a blur as they marinated the meat, cooked it with onions in a pan on the stove, and finished by garnishing it with green onions and toasted sesame seeds. They sat down to eat, the table full of friendly conversation, but Jaemin didn’t participate — he was too hyper-aware of Yangyang sitting across from him for the first time in two weeks.

(He vaguely noticed that Yangyang wasn’t talking either. Instead, they kept catching each other’s eye and looking away. The anticipation in Jaemin’s stomach grew stronger with each passing moment.)

Just as they were all starting to head out for the night, Jaemin gathered all his courage and said, “Hey, Yangyang, do you have a minute?”

“Oh, sure.” Yangyang blinked, hanging back as Donghyuck, Renjun, Shotaro, and Jeno started heading out towards the exit. He visibly collected himself and shot Jaemin a shy smile. “What’s up?”

Jaemin took a deep breath. “Is that offer for dinner still on the table?”


	6. dumplings

They agreed to meet at Yangyang and Donghyuck’s apartment for dinner since Yangyang was the one to ask Jaemin out in the first place.

Jaemin was supposed to arrive at six o’clock, so at five-thirty Yangyang found himself in the kitchen, tossing together some raw ground pork, chives, cabbage, some bok choy, ginger, and mushrooms in a bowl and adding soy sauce and sesame oil. As he mixed it all together, Donghyuck popped his head into the doorway.

“Well, I’m off to Renjun’s. Good luck tonight, Yang. Don’t be gross on any piece of furniture in here beside your own bed — even if it’s a mistake while in the throes of love, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Thanks, Hyuck.” He rolled his eyes at Donghyuck’s dramatics as turned to the doorway, a smirk creeping across his features. “You know, somehow I get the feeling that I should be wishing you luck as well.”

“Perish where you stand, Liu Yangyang,” Donghyuck said airily, departing with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. It would have been a lot more convincing if the tips of his ears weren’t a bright, burning red. 

“Tell Renjun I said hello!” Yangyang called after him, and he was answered by the sound of the door slamming. He chuckled to himself, finishing up with his diner preparations and clearing up while he waited for Jaemin to arrive. 

There was a knock on the door at exactly five minutes to six, and Yangyang opened it for Jaemin, who was, as usual, dressed to the nines.

“Hi!” Yangyang greeted him with a smile, stepping aside to allow Jaemin to come in. “Can I take your coat or anything?”

“Oh, sure,” Jaemin seemed really nervous, but he still tried his best to smile at Yangyang as he handed him his coat. “Thanks so much.”

“No problem,” Yangyang said, quashing his own nerves to give Jaemin a reassuring smile as he hung the coat up by the door. “So, I thought that since cooking is how we met, it would be really fun to make some dumplings together for dinner tonight.”

“Oh!” Jaemin’s eyes widened in excitement. “That sounds great!” He was really smiling now, and Yangyang knew that he’d made the right choice. “Should we get started, then?”

“Yep. I already prepared the filling and the wrappers — though I have to be honest and tell you that I bought the wrappers premade to save some time,” Yangyang said as he led Jaemin to the kitchen.

“I’m all about shaving down on cooking time,” Jaemin said, starting to relax as they got back into the kitchen, which was pretty much exactly what Yangyang had been hoping for. Even if Jaemin sometimes seemed awkward, he never looked more confident than when he was cooking. Jaemin rolled up his sleeves, looking to Yangyang in anticipation. “So how are we doing this?”

They settled at Yangyang and Donghyuck’s kitchen table, the bowl of filling and store-bought wrappers between them. For once, their roles were reversed, Yangyang showing Jaemin how much filling to put on the wrapper, how to run water along the edges and pinch it closed. 

“This is fun,” Jaemin said, grinning as he reached for another wrapper. “I’ve made a lot of stuff, but this is my first time trying dumplings. When did you learn?”

“I grew up making them,” Yangyang explained. “It’s a bit of a family tradition. When we visit my grandma, everyone helps to make them. My grandpa, dad, and uncles help make the filling and wrappers in the kitchen, and my aunties and mom and all the kids sit around the table and gossip with my grandma while we assemble them.”

“That’s adorable,” Jaemin said, smiling gently. “I didn’t take you for someone with a big family.”

“Ah, my mom had a lot of siblings,” Yangyang said. “I only have one sister, but I have tons of cousins, and even some nieces and nephews. It’s been a while since I’ve seen them all, though, since I’ve been abroad for so long now.”

“Do you miss them?” Jaemin asked.

“All the time,” Yangyang said. He smiled at Jaemin, gesturing to the dumplings. “But I know that no matter where I go, I can always feel connected to them by doing this. I can practically hear my aunts giving out about all of my less than perfect dumplings as we speak,” he said, rolling his eyes and eliciting a laugh from Jaemin. 

“That’s really lovely, Yangyang,” Jaemin said seriously. “Thank you for sharing such an amazing family tradition with me.”

“Making dumplings on your own is no good,” Yangyang said, shaking his head. “Yeah, you get a good dumpling, but the feeling isn’t the same. Donghyuck and I have made them together a few times, even though he was never much help. Now that I’ve met so many new friends through your class, I’m thinking we should make a day of it with everyone and make some. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Jaemin said, smiling. “Can you imagine the chaos it would bring?”

“It would be great,” Yangyang said, grinning. “Also, maybe between us, Renjun, Jeno, and Shotaro, we can manage to minimize Donghyuck’s potential devastation.”

“Hey, he’s been getting better!” Jaemin said, stifling a laugh. “Mostly.”

“You don’t have to protect him, Jaemin, I heard all about the black bean noodles from Renjun.” Yangyang shudders. He leaned in. “Were they  _ actually _ smoking?”

“So much. He completely ruined the pot,” Jaemin said conspiratorially, giving in. Yangyang burst out laughing. “I had to explain to the faculty why one of their super expensive pots was completely destroyed!”

“You didn’t!” Yangyang gasped. “How did they take it?”

“Pretty well, all things considered,” Jaemin said. “Apparently they were just impressed it had taken this long for one of us to ruin something.”

“They really had so little faith in us?”

“You should have been in my first year cooking classes,” Jaemin said, amused as he set a finished dumpling aside. “Eleven pots were ruined that year, and that was in a class of people that were supposedly majoring in the culinary arts.”

“Well, then I suppose I can understand the skepticism,” Yangyang said, raising an eyebrow. He looked down at their small mountain of dumplings. “That should probably be more than enough, don’t you think?”

“I think so,” Jaemin said. He raised his eyebrows as he looked down at the bowl. “We’re pretty much out of filling, anyway.”

They took their dumplings over to the stove, and after putting them in the pot to be steamed, they leaned against the counter, chatting about their classes while carefully sidestepping the massive elephant in the room.

It wasn’t until they were sitting across from each other one again, plates full of dumplings, that Jaemin finally said, “You know, I think we should talk about what happened that Monday.”

The lighthearted atmosphere evaporated on the spot, making way for something a bit more serious. “Alright,” Yangyang said carefully. “We probably should.”

“I think I owe you an explanation,” Jaemin said nervously, twisting his hands. “There are some things that you have to know about me if we’re going to do this.”

“Okay,” Yangyang said, intentionally keeping his voice steady. Jaemin looked like he was about to shake apart with nerves, and that was the last thing Yangyang wanted. “I’m listening. You don’t have to worry.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing,” Jaemin mumbled. “I will anyway.” He paused to take a bite of his dumplings, and then he continued. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I can be a bit weird and awkward sometimes. I take things too literally, I miss social cues on occasion. Sometimes things are happening and I don’t really understand why, but I try my best to seem unaffected and in control, even when inside my brain I’m freaking out because I don’t really understand what’s going on.”

“A little,” Yangyang admitted. “But it doesn’t make you weird. Awkward, sure, but not weird.” He shot Jaemin a reassuring smile. “Go on.”

“Right.” Jaemin blinked, looking a bit surprised. “To be honest with you, I was in shock when you asked me out. I didn’t really believe you were being serious. Or I guess I was just having a hard time processing what was going on.” He shot Yangyang a nervous smile, and ate another dumpling. 

“A few years ago, I was doing a lot worse than I am now,” he admitted, looking down at his plate and refusing to meet Yangyang’s eyes. “My only friend was Jeno, and even though he’s known me since kindergarten, we weren’t really super close until my last years of high school. Some… stuff happened, in middle school and high school. Bullying, mostly. Social isolation.” Jaemin breath caught, and Yangyang reached a hand across the table to lay on Jaemin’s arm comfortingly. Jaemin looked up for a brief moment and flashed him a grateful half smile. 

“You don’t have to go into detail,” Yangyang said gently. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t think I do right now,” Jaemin said. “But one day, maybe.” They shared a soft smile, and then Jaemin looked away, going back to his story.

“In any case, everything that happened really took its toll on me. I was really, deeply insecure,” Jaemin said softly. “The thing they don’t tell you about dealing with people like me is that we really, genuinely don’t have any self worth. It’s not like we want to die or anything — or at least, I never did — but we just don’t have our own best interests in mind, and that can be extremely hard to deal with for the people closest to us.”

Jaemin sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at Yangyang. “For as much as Jeno cares about me, I know I’m hard for him to deal with sometimes. There were some days where no matter how much he told me he cared about me and that I didn’t deserve to be treated badly, I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t. There were other days where he had to stand by and watch me let other people walk all over me like some kind of doormat, and he couldn’t do anything about it. Other days, he had to take time out of his life to help me through a crisis that didn’t actually exist because I had just exaggerated everything in my head, thinking that the whole world had it out for me.”

Jaemin sighed deeply and took a sip of his water. Yangyang waited patiently, listening to him carefully, even as his heart broke the slightest bit in his chest for everything that Jaemin had gone through. 

“I’m a lot better now. I am,” Jaemin said finally after a long silence. “But I still have off days, and I take some medication for the anxiety I have now as a result of what happened then. I just need you to know about this before we start dating, because I understand that it’s a lot to deal with, and I don’t want to be reliant on anybody other than myself when it comes to my mental health.”

He met Yangyang’s eyes head on. “If we’re going to try this,  _ really _ try, I want you to go in prepared. I want you to know that you’re not a mental health professional, and I would never want to ask you to be my therapist. All I would want from you is to be my boyfriend, and if I ever started to ask you for more than you could give, I want you to know that it’s alright to tell me no.” 

He took another sip of his water. “It’s the same with Jeno. He’s my best friend, and he’s there for me to listen and offer advice like any other best friend would, but if it starts to get to a point where it’s something he can’t deal with, he lets me know.”

“Okay,” Yangyang said. “First of all, thank you for sharing all of that with me. I’m so sorry to hear about everything that’s happened, Jaemin.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jaemin said softly. 

“I know that,” Yangyang said. “I hope you know that it wasn’t your fault either.”

Silence fell over them for a moment as Yangyang gathered his thoughts. He chewed a dumpling thoughtfully, and then, swallowing, he said, “Honestly, Jaemin, this doesn’t change much for me at all. I still think you’re really handsome and sweet, and I still really like talking with you. If anything, I just feel like I understand you a little better now.”

At his words, Jaemin’s eyes started to look a little watery, and Yangyang put down his chopsticks in alarm. “Oh no, don’t start crying! If you start crying, I’ll start crying, and then where will we be?” He pushed his chair around the table so that he was sitting next to Jaemin, and he pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay.”

“Sorry,” Jaemin said, pulling out of the hug as laughed wetly, wiping his eyes. “I’m just… really relieved.”

“I’m glad,” Yangyang said gently, and for a while they just sat together, dumplings abandoned, hand in hand. “So what do you say, Jaemin? Can I take you out to dinner again sometime?”

Jaemin smiled. “If you’re sure you want to.”

“I’m sure,” Yangyang said confidently. “Are you sure you want to?”

Jaemin leaned over, kissing him sweetly on the cheek. “I’m sure. Let’s try it.”

______________________________

Donghyuck came home that night to catch Jaemin and Yangyang mid-kiss, Yangyang’s back against the counter, the dishes half-washed in the sink.

“Leave room for Jesus! My poor virgin eyes,” Donghyuck yelped. “Congratulations and everything, but couldn’t you two have told me like normal people?” He groaned, burying his head in his hands. “And in the middle of the kitchen, too. I should have known.”

“Hello, Donghyuck,” Jaemin said cheerfully, pecking Yangyang once more on the lips as they separated. “How was your date with Renjun?”

“I —  _ What —  _ How  _ dare _ you, it was  _ not _ a date!”

Yangyang snorted, wrapping an arm around Jaemin’s waist as he smirked at Donghyuck. “Sure, Hyuck. Whatever you say.”

“I hate this, I hate you all,” Donghyuck moaned. “I’m leaving. Stop defiling our kitchen counters when there is a perfectly good couch in the living room.”

“I thought you wanted me to keep us off the furniture,” Yangyang said sweetly. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve changed my mind after seeing the alternative,” Donghyuck said, rubbing his temples. “That  _ cannot _ be sanitary.”

“Goodbye, Donghyuck,” Yangyang said, smiling and waving.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,” Donghyuck grumbled. “Have a good night.”

“Good to see you, Donghyuck,” Jaemin added with a grin, and Donghyuck left the kitchen with a final, begrudging wave.

As soon as he was gone, Jaemin met Yangyang’s eyes, and they both burst out laughing. 

“He hates us,” Jaemin said breathlessly. 

“He loves us somewhere, deep down,” Yangyang said, smiling. “Very deep down.”

“Hm, yeah, he does,” Jaemin said warmly, reaching up to rest his hands on Yangyang’s shoulders, sliding them back to intertwine them around his neck. “Now kiss me again.”

“Anytime,” Yangyang said breathlessly, leaning in and falling deeper and deeper into Jaemin, a smile on his lips and the beginnings of love sparkling in his eyes.

(“Our love was fate,” Yangyang will tell their family and friends years later. “I knew the moment I met him that I wanted it to be more.” Jaemin will laugh, amused, and shake his head.)

(“No love is fated,” he’ll say, smiling softly. “But I’m glad that I ended up with you.”)

(“Adorable,” Shotaro will say, as Jeno wipes away a tear.)

(“Disgusting,” Donghyuck will mutter from across the room, gold band shining on his left hand’s ring finger. “I hate love.”)

(Renjun will pat him on the shoulder, patronizing, his matching ring catching the light. “Of course you do, honey.”)

(Some things never change.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you all for reading!
> 
> All the recipes in this fic are ones I found on youtube, and are represented accurately here with the exception of bulgogi, which has to marinate overnight before being pan-fried.
> 
> Thank you again to my prompter, admin bom, and all the other participants of 00FF round two! (If you haven’t, you should check out the other fics in the collection!) If you enjoyed the fic, please leave comments and kudos! Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> Much love,  
> ROBIN  
> (@r0binisms on twt)


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